Yolanda: Maid of Burgundy Part 42

"Uncle is at the shop," said Yolanda. "Tante is at a neighbor's, and Twonette, of course, is asleep. We three will sit here on this bench with no one to disturb us, and I shall have you both all to myself. No!

There! I'll sit between you. Now, this is delightful."

She sat between us, crossed her knees--an unpardonable crime, Frau Kate would have thought--and giving a hand to Max and to me, said contentedly:--

"Now, tell me all about it."

I was actually on the point of beginning a narrative of our adventures, just as if she did not already know them,--so great was the spell she had thrown over me,--when Max spoke:--

"We had a poor dinner, but a kind host, therefore a fine feast. The duke has asked us to go to Switzerland with him. Judging by the enormous sum he offers for our poor services, he must believe that he will need no other help to conquer the Swiss."

"Yes--yes, that is interesting," said Yolanda, hastily, "but the princess--tell me of her."

"She is a very beautiful princess," answered Max.

"Yes--I suppose she is," answered Yolanda. "I have it dinned into my ears till I ought to believe it; but tell me of her manner, her conversation, her temper. What of them?"

"She is a most beautiful princess," answered Max, evidently intending to utter no word against Her Highness, though as a matter of fact he did not like her at all. "I am sure she deserves all the good that fame speaks of her."

Yolanda flung our hands from her, sprang to her feet, and faced us angrily.

"That's the way with all men. A rich princess, even though she be a cold devil, is beautiful and good and gentle and wise and true and quick of wit. Men care not what she is if her house be great and rich and powerful. If her domains are fat and broad, she deserves 'all the good that fame speaks of her.' She can win no man for herself. She cannot touch a man's heart; she can only satisfy his greed. You went to the castle, Sir Max, to see this princess. You want Burgundy. That is why you are in Peronne!"

The girl's pa.s.sionate outburst was sincere, and showed me her true motive for deceiving Max. Her plan was not the outgrowth of a whim; it was the result of a tremendous motive conceived in the depths of her soul. She had found the man she loved, and was taking her own way to win him, if she could, for herself. She judged all men by the standard that she had just announced. She would never believe in the love of a man who should woo her as Princess Mary of Burgundy.

Her words came near accomplis.h.i.+ng more than she desired. When she stopped speaking, Max leaned forward and gently took her hand.

"Yolanda, this princess is nothing to me, and I swear to you that I will never ask her to marry--"

A frightened gleam came to the girl's eyes when she understood the oath that Max was about to take, and she quickly placed her hand over his mouth. Max was swearing too much.

"You shall not make that oath, Little Max," she said. "You shall not say that you will never marry her, nor shall you say that you will never marry any one else. You must remain free to choose the right wife when the right time comes. You must tread the path that G.o.d has marked out for you. Perhaps it leads to this princess; no one can tell. If so, you must accept your fate, Sir Max." She sighed at the mere thought of so untoward a fate for Max.

"I need make no oath not to marry the princess," answered Max. "She is beyond my reach, even though I were dying for love of her."

"And you are not dying for love of her, are you?" asked Yolanda, again taking the seat between Max and me.

"No," he responded.

"Nor for love of any woman?" she asked, looking toward Max.

"I'll not say that," he replied, laughing softly, and taking her hands between his.

"No, no," she mused, looking in revery out the window. "No, we will not say that."

I have always been as unsentimental as a man well can be, but I believe, had I been in Max's place, I should have thrown away my crown for the sake of Yolanda, the burgher girl. I remember wondering if Max would be strong enough finally to reach the same conclusion. If he should be, my faith in Yolanda's powers led me to believe that she would contrive a plan to make him her husband, despite her father, or the devil and all his imps.

There is a power of finesse in the feminine mind that no man may fully compa.s.s, and Yolanda, in that respect, was the flower of her s.e.x. That she had been able to maintain her humble personality with Max, despite the fact that she had been compelled to meet him twice as princess, proved her ability. Of course, she had the help of good old Castleman and his sweet Frau Kate, serene Twonette, and myself; but with all this help she probably would have failed without the stairway in the wall.

When we left Castleman's, I did not bring up the subject of Mary and Yolanda. Max walked silently beside me until we had nearly reached the inn, when he said:--

"I am almost glad I was wrong, Karl. I would not have Yolanda other than she is. At times, wild thoughts suggest themselves to me; but I am not so weak as to give way to them. I drive them off and clench my teeth, determined to take the misery G.o.d doles out to me. I am glad we are soon to leave Burgundy. The duke marches in three days, and it is none too soon for me."

"Shall not we return to Burgundy?" I asked. "I want you to see Paris and Brussels, and, if possible, London before we return to Styria. Don't you think it best that we come back to Peronne after this war?"

"You are right, Karl; we must come back," he answered. "I do not fear Yolanda. I am not weak."

"I sometimes wonder if we know our strength from our weakness," I suggested. "There is doubtless much energy wasted by conscientious men striving in the wrong direction, who fancy they are doing their duty."

"You would not have me marry Yolanda?" asked Max, a gleam of light coming to his eyes.

"I do not know, Max," I responded. "A rare thing has happened to you.

You have won a marvellous love from a marvellous woman. She takes no pains to conceal it. She could not hide it if she would. What you feel, only you and G.o.d know."

"Only G.o.d," cried Max, huskily. "Only G.o.d. I cannot measure it."

"My dear boy," said I, taking his arm, "you are at a point where you must decide for yourself."

"I have decided," returned Max. "If my father and mother were not living, I might--I might--bah! there is but one life for me. I am doomed. I make myself wretched by resistance."

"When we return to Peronne, you will know your mind," I answered soothingly.

"I know my mind now," he answered. "I know that I would give half the years of my life to possess Yolanda; but I also know the fate that G.o.d has marked out for me."

"Then you know more than many a wise man thrice your age can boast,"

said I.

The duke's armies had been gathering throughout Burgundy. Men had come in great numbers to camp near Peronne, and the town was noisy with martial preparations. Contrary to Hymbercourt's advice, the duke was leaving Peronne Castle guarded by only a small garrison. Charles had great faith in the strength of Peronne the Impregnable, and, although it was near the French border, he trusted in its strength and in his treaty with King Louis. He knew from experience that a treaty with Louis would bind that crafty monarch only so long as it was to his interest to remain bound; but Louis' interest in maintaining the treaty seemed greater than Burgundy's, and Charles rested on that fact. Peronne was to be left captained by the d.u.c.h.ess and Mary, and garrisoned by five score men-at-arms, who were either too old or too young to go to war.

Without discussing the duke's offer, Max and I decided to accept it, though for different reasons. Max needed the gold; he also sniffed battle, and wanted the excitement and the enterprise of war. I had all his reasons, and still another; I wanted to give Yolanda time to execute her plans.

The war with Switzerland would probably be short. Max would be with the duke, and would, I hoped, augment the favor with which Charles already honored him. Should Yolanda's letter make trouble with France, Duke Charles might be induced, through his personal feelings, to listen to Max's suit. If Charles returned from Switzerland victorious--and no other outcome seemed possible--he would no longer have reason to carry out the marriage treaty with France. It had been made largely for the purpose of keeping Louis quiet while Charles was absent. Anything might happen; everything might happen, while Max was with Charles in Switzerland and Yolanda at home making trouble with France.

The next day, by appointment, we waited on the duke at the morning audience. When we entered the great hall, the urgent business had been transacted, and half a score of lords and gentlemen stood near the dais, discussing some topic with the duke and with one another. We moved near the throne, and I heard Charles say to Campo-Ba.s.so and Hymbercourt:--

"Almost three weeks have pa.s.sed since our message to France, and we have had no answer. What think you, gentlemen, of the delay?"

"His Majesty is not in Paris, or delays answering," said Hymbercourt.

"By the Host, if I could think that King Louis were holding Byron and delaying an answer, I would change my plans and march on Paris rather than on Switzerland."

"I fear, my lord," said Campo-Ba.s.so, with a sympathetic desire to make trouble, if possible, "that His Majesty delays an answer while he frames one that shall be elusive, yet conciliatory. King Louis, Your Grace knows, thinks many times before each word he speaks or writes."

"If he has intentionally delayed this answer, I'll give him cause to think many times _after_ his words," said Charles.

Conversations of like nature had occurred on several occasions since the sending of the missive to Louis, and they offered the stormy duke opportunity to vent his boastfulness and spleen. While Charles was pouring out his wrath against his brother-in-law, Byron, the herald, appeared at the door of the great hall. He announced himself, and, when ordered to approach, ran to the dais, kneeled on the second step, and placed a small sealed packet in the duke's hand.

"Did you find King Louis at Paris?" asked the duke, addressing Byron.